


The Prince and The Servant

by boywholivednotdied



Series: Merthur Party 2013 [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywholivednotdied/pseuds/boywholivednotdied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and his new servant, Merlin, have been invited to a feast. Arthur is sure Merlin is going to mess up. He would be right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince and The Servant

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot based on Merthur Party 2013 prompt one

The smell of pork hit Arthur flat in the face as he entered the large hall.  
  
Hunger pangs stabbed at the pit of his stomach, but he kept a straight face as he stood stiffly by his father’s side. King Alyan, who seemed to be about seven thousand years old, was gradually making his way through the line of kings, shaking their hands with agonising slowness. Once they made their greetings and said a few pleasantries they could sit down at the table, Arthur reminded himself, trying to ignore the fact that they would still be forced to listen to an astronomical amount of speeches before they were finally allowed to eat.  
  
Why was the food already laid out anyway? The alluring smell was making the waiting even more unbearable. It was obviously a ploy by Alyan. A cruel temptation. A devious tactic with the sole purpose of torturing Arthur. There was definitely a diabolical side to the seemingly mild mannered old king.  
  
Arthur’s eyes strayed, as they had been doing increasingly frequently, to the opposite side of the hall where the servants were lined up. He spotted Merlin in a heartbeat, because of that ridiculously bright blue shirt he always wore. Why were all his clothes such hideously luminous shades? And why was that god-awful neckerchief always around his neck? What was he trying to hide? It had been less than a fortnight since the gangly creature had been employed as his servant, and already he was accompanying Arthur to Eltir’s annual feast. Arthur was positive that there was no way this could end other than with a disaster. That clumsy fool was the worst servant Arthur had ever seen… he would be surprised if the night _didn’t_ end with Merlin spilling stew on some nobleman’s clothes.  
  
“Good evening, Uther.” An old wavering voice said, bringing Arthur back to attention.  
  
“Alyan.” Uther said warmly, clasping the old man’s hand, “What a marvellous feast you have laid out for us.”  
  
“And this must be your son,” Alyan said, ignoring the statement, “My, my. How he has grown.”  
  
Arthur forced himself to smile. “King Alyan. Thank you so much for inviting me to the feast again this year.”  
  
“Of course, my boy.” The man said, touching Arthur’s cheek with a liver-spotted hand.  
  
Yup. He had definitely put out the food to torment him.  
  
The man continued down the line and Arthur let himself sag a little as his father led the way to the long table. Arthur’s eyes found Merlin again - the boy was talking amiably to a girl beside him. Why did he keep fidgeting with his hair? Arthur groaned internally. He wasn’t trying to _flirt_ with her, was he? How could that ungainly creature think he could charm a girl… particularly one that was so obviously out of his league?  
  
Arthur sat down in his assigned chair, a little more forcefully than he had intended to, and received an odd look from his father. King Olaf’s daughter, Vivian, who was sitting across the table from him gave him a small smile. Arthur returned it, albeit somewhat unenthusiastically.  
  
“Are you alright?” Uther asked in a whisper.  
  
“Yes, of course father, why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
“You seem somewhat… agitated.”  
  
Arthur made a strangled laugh. “Not at all. I’m just a little hungry.”  
  
Uther sighed and nodded knowingly. “They always take forever to serve food here. Each year I tend to lose my appetite by the time we actually get to eat.”  
  
He then turned around and began chatting and eventually laughing uproariously with the man beside him. Arthur fidgeted with his cutlery.  
  
“Prince Arthur, is it not?” Vivian asked, and Arthur nodded.  
  
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady.”  
  
She giggled and Arthur chanced a look at Merlin again. The girl he was talking to was laughing now, and slapping his arm. He was laughing too… his eyes crinkled at the edges, that stupid little dimple appearing on his cheek. Arthur exhaled loudly, startling Vivian.  
  
“Oh, my lord,” she said, flustered, “I didn’t meant to offend you.”  
  
“What?” Arthur asked, disoriented. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was thinking about something else.”  
  
“I was just asking about that ring on your left hand… was it your mother’s?”  
  
Arthur looked down at the ring, blankly. “Oh… no.” he said, hastily, “No, this was given to me by an old family friend, Sir. Gorlois.”  
  
She smiled and Arthur was glad when a servant boy came around serving wine. Arthur raised his goblet at Vivian and she reciprocated, still smiling coquettishly.  
Arthur knew what Olaf did to men who flirted with his daughter, and he quickly turned to the prince beside him, striking up a conversation so that Vivian couldn’t continue theirs. He wasn’t interested in flirting with her anyway… she wasn’t his type. Arthur glanced towards the end of the hall again, but the servants had been whisked away into the kitchens.

The speeches finally finished and the food was served. Arthur had to remind himself not to openly salivate as a boy cut slivers of the pork and put them onto his plate. He quickly attacked the meat, trying to eat as much as he could without seeming to eager.  
  
“Don’t eat too much, my lord.” A teasing tone said, catching his attention, “You don’t want to be putting on any more weight.”  
  
Arthur frowned at Merlin’s grinning face. “Just serve me the potatoes and shut up,” he muttered. Merlin served him some of the fluffy potatoes, winking before he moved on to the next person. Out of all the peasants in Camelot why did his father have to choose the most impertinent one to be his servant?  
  
He was a terrible servant. Absolutely awful. Clumsy, distracted… always creating a mess and then coming up with odd stories as a way of explanation. Yet, Arthur had never complained about him to his father. If he did, Uther would reinstate his old servant, Thomas. Thomas was a far better servant but Arthur didn’t want him back. He was a snivelling idiot. Of course, his fearful behaviour around Arthur could be attributed to the way Arthur would occasionally bully him a little… but if he was going to be his companion in battle, then he should have been made of sterner stuff. Like Merlin. He was an oaf, but at least he was a brave one.  
  
“Any princesses caught your eye as yet?” Prince Eglos asked from beside him.  
  
“I’ve hardly gotten a chance to converse with anyone but my father,” Arthur said with a sigh.  
  
“Still… there are some beautiful girls here,” Eglos said, gesturing with his cup to a group of girls on the far side of the table. “Look at the girl with the brown curls. Is she not absolutely stunning?”  
  
Arthur realized with a start that the prince was right. The girls at the feast were gorgeous. They had all grown a lot since the year before, and now looked more like women than girls. And they had been sitting at the table all night… why hadn’t Arthur noticed them?  
  
There was a loud crash and Arthur spun around to see a petrified Merlin standing empty handed across from King Olaf. The king was glaring down at the ground where a large pot was overturned, splattering mashed potatoes everywhere. Merlin quickly bent down and picked up the large pot, sending the king a sheepish look.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” he said, “I’ll get this cleaned up immediately.”  
  
“You are such a fool!” Olaf roared, “Whose buffoon are you?”  
  
Arthur risked a quick glance at his father. Uther was covering his face with a bejewelled hand, shaking his head reprovingly.  
  
“I’m…” Merlin looked around the room, panicked.  
  
“Don’t you know who you belong to boy?” Olaf roared. He glared for a second at Merlin’s wide-eyed look and then burst out laughing.  
  
Merlin laughed awkwardly along with him, unsure of what else to do.  
  
“You dropped a pot… now you must face the consequences,” Olaf said, thumping Merlin so hard on the back he almost dropped the pot again. “You must dance for us!”  
  
“What?” Merlin’s distressed expression made it clear that he would have preferred being thrown into prison. “Honestly,” he said, embarrassed, “You don’t want to see me do that.”  
  
“Of course we do, _boy_.” Olaf said, “Come on, right now. Start dancing.”  
  
“Really, I don’t think…”  
  
Olaf grabbed his neckerchief, pulling him close. “Do it, or I’ll make sure you get thrown in the stocks.”  
  
By then Arthur had had enough. He pushed his chair back, the squeal of the wood against the floor made everyone turn towards him.  
  
“Alright King Olaf,” he said, brusquely, “That’s enough.”  
  
Olaf let go of Merlin’s scarf, sending him skittering backwards. The boy didn’t look frightened, just a little jarred, and he stared at Arthur with shock in his eyes. Olaf was glaring daggers at Arthur, his teeth pressed tightly together.  
  
“And who are you to tell me what to do?” He spat, “You’re nothing but a boy.”  
  
“Yes, I’m just a boy and I don’t have any right to command you,” Arthur said, trying to sound as humble as he could, “But that is my servant, and I do not wish to see him humiliated.”  
  
Olaf let out a derisive laugh. “You would stand up and insult me to prevent your _servant_ from being humiliated?”  
  
“I meant no insult.” Arthur said, soberly, “I merely wished to…”  
  
“You are insolent!” Olaf snarled.  
  
“Arthur, what are you doing?” Uther hissed from his side, “Just tell your boy to dance, it’s hardly a matter worth fighting over.”  
  
“He isn’t a trained monkey!” Arthur insisted, looking from his father to Olaf. “He’s a clumsy fool, but he doesn’t deserve to be degraded like this!”  
  
Olaf stood up, sending his goblet of wine flying from the table. “I will…”  
  
“Now, now.” King Alyan said, raising his hand. “This is no time to fight.”  
  
He looked gently at Merlin. “Go off to the kitchens, boy. Get a mop to clean this up.”  
  
Merlin nodded wordlessly and ran off to the kitchens.  
  
“Olaf, calm down.” Alyan continued, smiling softly at him, “The young prince is merely standing up for one of his own. Isn’t that a quality to be admired?”  
  
Olaf muttered angry words under his breath but sat down, scowling. Arthur sent King Alyan a thankful smile before sitting down himself.  
  
Uther shook his head. “Honestly, Arthur,” he muttered angrily. “You almost caused war for a servant.”

 

Arthur was alone in the guest chambers that had been allotted to him, when there was a timid knock on the door and Merlin appeared, smiling remorsefully.  
  
“I’m sorry for what happened out there,” he mumbled, walking over to him and helping him take off his shirt. “I was trying so hard to keep anything from falling, but… these things happen, you know.”  
  
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Only to you.”  
  
He tried not to think about Merlin’s hands on his bare skin as the boy helped him take off his trousers.   
  
“Thank you,” Merlin said, a little shyly, “For… standing up for me.”  
  
“I wasn’t standing up for you,” Arthur said, irritably, “I just didn’t want to see you dance. I would have lost my appetite.”  
  
Merlin grinned, but silently got him out of the rest of his clothes and into his pajamas.  
  
“Well whatever it was,” he said, finally, “I appreciate it.”  
  
“Why? Because you didn’t have to make a fool of yourself in front of that _girl_?”  
  
“Who?” Merlin asked, confused, “Do you mean Keela?”  
  
Arthur waved a hand, brushing it off. “I don’t know what her name is,” he said, scornfully, “But you were flirting with her.”  
  
“I was not flirting,” Merlin said, with a laugh. “I was just being friendly.”  
  
“You were flirting!” Arthur insisted, “I saw you!”  
  
“I was not!”  
  
“You were!”  
  
“So what if I was?” Merlin challenged.  
  
“So what if you were?” Arthur countered, “I don’t care. I just wanted you to admit it.”  
  
“For what reason?”  
  
“You were denying it.”  
  
A small smile appeared on Merlin’s face.  
  
“Dollophead,” he said, softly.  
  
He started to walk towards the door, but paused and turned around to face Arthur. For a split second, their eyes met.  
  
Arthur felt his stomach flutter… a little painfully.  
  
It must have been that damn pork he ate.


End file.
